


Ruined

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-27
Updated: 2005-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: After their adventure, Ray gets dumped





	Ruined

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Ruined

## Ruined

  
by tx_tart  


Disclaimer: not mine; this is just for fun

Story Notes: Post CotW

* * *

Late May Chicago 1998  
  
Ray arrivedhome during a pouring rain. It was one of those things - a metaphor, analogy, something. It matched his mood, but he was just drunk enough not to appreciate it at the time.   
  
He didn't tell anyone he was coming, so he took a cab from O'Hare to his apartment. The cabbie didn't want to get wet; either that or he had a broken leg because when they got to his building, Ray had to unload all his gear himself - two loaded-down trips to his lobby in a fucking monsoon. By the time he'd sent the guy on his way, with a small enough tip to tell him what he really thought about his customer service, his clothes stuck to him like a cold, dripping second skin.  
  
Once inside the door of his building, the two days of traveling, combined with the alcohol, punched him between the eyes and he was ready to pass out. Ray looked down at the pile of gear on the floor and gave some thought to just leaving it where it was. It wasn't like he was going to need a sub-zero rated sleeping bag any time soon or probably ever again. In the end, he gave the nearest bag a half-hearted kick and started grabbing things up. Maybe he could sellsome of this stuffto a bigger sucker than him.  
  
Once he got everything up to his door, Ray unlocked it and started throwing things in, as fast as he could, until he was sweating beneath his wet clothes. With that accomplished, Ray shut the door, leaning back against it, panting and a little dizzy. The first thing he noticed was that his apartment had a weird smell. Stale. Empty. Cold. Ray reached out in the dark and flipped on the lights that he had been paying for and not using, blinking and squinting at the glare until his eyes got used to it. Yep, just the way he remembered it. Ugly.  
  
Ray stripped off his wet stuff and stumbled into bed, where he slept for 14 hours. When he woke up, with the inside of his head fuzzy and aching, he realized it was the first time he'd slept alone in over three months. ________  
  
May 27, 1998  
  
Dear Ray,  
  
I want to thank you again for the phone call making Dief and I aware of your safe arrival in Chicago. I wish we had had a chance to speak longer but just as your call came through, I received word of a disturbance at the regular meeting of the Girl Guides of Canada and that was the reason I had to cut our call short. I wouldn't want you to think that I did so for any other reason, because I had been looking forward to talking to you.  
  
Please feel free to contact me at any time. Your friendship is very precious to me and I hope that the distance that separates us will do nothing to alter that.  
  
Yours Truly,  
  
Benton Fraser, RCMP   
  
________  
  
The letter sat in Ray's mailbox for two days before he brought it up to his apartment and then, it lay on the kitchen counter for one more. Finally, after his first day back at the 2-7, he sat down on the sofa and opened it.  
  
Ray's hands were shaking as they held the page. As soon as he was done reading, Ray went into the bathroom. He pulled and tore at the paper until it was in the smallest pieces he could manage. Then, he tossed the pieces into the toilet and flushed them. And when that was done, he went to bed and jerked off, his chest tight and aching for hours afterward.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
At work, everybody looked at him with either pity or fear. He was short with people. Well, more so than usual,except for Frannie, because he just couldn't snap at a pregnant woman. But nobody, not even Frannie, came right out and asked what happened.  
  
Only Welsh brought the subject up, a couple of weeks after Ray's return. It had been late at night, at the conclusion of an old case. He and Welsh slouched on the sofa in Welsh's office, each of them with a glass of whiskey in their hands.  
  
"Here's to your return, Detective," Welsh had said, raising his glass.  
  
"Thank you, sir," Ray had answered, touching his glass to Welsh's and drinking half the liquid down. The inside of Welsh's office still smelled like musty paper. Outside the office, a couple of phones were ringing and a door slammed. Ray closed his eyes, trying to find some comfort in the familiar.  
  
"Being in Canada for all that time hasn't made you lose a step."  
  
"I appreciate that, sir." At just the mention of Canada, Ray's eyelid started to twitch.  
  
"Kowalski, I hesitate to say this, but you're my best detective and it's my job to make sure that your mental acuity is as it should be."  
  
"I'm not following you, sir." Except, he did. Big time.  
  
"Whatever happened between you and the Canadian, you have to let it go. I wouldn't want my boss to get the idea that you are a loose cannon. Now, I realize that in the course of our duties, property can be destroyed but two vehicles? And the brass isn't going to be happy when they hear about the fire."  
  
Ray had drained the rest of his drink and stood up. "Don't worry, Lieu. It's under control." And that had been that.   
  
________  
  
June 14, 1998  
  
Dear Ray,  
  
I hope this letter finds you well. Diefenbaker and I are settling into our new posting. We have moved into RCMP housing here in town, a short walk from the depot. Norman Wells is a town of nearly 700 mostly law-abiding citizens which makes my job a fairly easy one, thus far. It is quite a departure from my experience in Chicago, as you might imagine.  
  
Francesca has written twice already, and I enjoy her chatty letters very much. But I would love to hear from you, Ray, about how you are getting on. Though I am certain that you are going about your business with your usual aplomb, it would settle my mind to hear that from you.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Benton Fraser  
  
________  
  
After a month back in Chicago, Ray went out and got himself laid. He went to a place, far from his neighborhood, where the beer was cold and the pretzels were stale and he ended up in the front seat of the GTO with a guy named Terry.   
  
Once Ray's head was back against the padded rest and his dick was buried in Terry's skillful mouth, Ray let himself think about the first time with Fraser, in their tent, a week into their adventure. Fraser had zipped their sleeping bags together and without a word, they had started kissing roughly, rubbing against each other, hard enough to hurt, hard enough for Ray to think he was going to die from the greatness of it. Fraser had whispered stuff in his ear that Ray had barely been able to understand, but it sounded like, "need you," and "waited so long" and Ray tried not to panic at the way those words made him feel. In an embarrassingly short time, Fraser had made him come hard enough to see not just stars, but a whole shitload of planets, too.   
  
"Fraser," Ray groaned out loud as Terry's mouth brought him to orgasm. After he'd halfheartedly returned the favor and politely asked Terry to get out, Ray sat in the car for a long while, his head down on the steering wheel, hating Benton Fraser with all his heart. He bought a bottle of whiskey and took it home. And when he was good and drunk, he started to write.  
  
________  
  
June 27, 1998  
  
Ray,  
  
To say that I was disappointed in the content of your letter, which I had waited so eagerly for, would be a vast understatement. I had hoped that you would be as interested as I in continuing our friendship but I can see now that was a sizable misconception on my part.   
  
I am glad to hear that your social life is such that you have all the friends you need and need no more. You didn't say so precisely but your letter leaves the impression that you are no longer interested in receiving any further communication from Diefenbaker and myself. At least, that is the sentiment I assumed you meant to convey when, in your letter, you wrote, "Fuck off, Fraser."   
  
If I have read the situation incorrectly, I would appreciate your letting me know, either by phone call or by mail. If I don't hear from you, I will assume that you wish no further contact.  
  
Fraser  
  
________  
  
Two months after Ray's return, he met Melanie. She wore her bleached blond hair really short and her left eyebrow was pierced with a little gold ring. In training as Frannie's maternity leave replacement, she seemed to hone in on Ray like a heat-seeking missile and no one was more surprised than Ray himself. She was tiny, cute and dressed kind of funky and if he had tried, Ray couldn't have found anyone who was more Fraser's opposite. Not that he had been trying.   
  
"Hello, Ray," she said when Frannie brought her to his desk, with a little upswing in her voice that Ray hadn't heard in way too long.   
  
Ray grinned at her and shook the hand that she held out. His hand swallowed hers, lime green nail polish, silver rings and all, but she held on tight and a little bit longer than she had to. It had been so long since Ray had done this man/woman thing that he wondered if he was reading the signals right. He tried not to look at the swell of her breasts through the gauzy material of her blouse but when she caught him doing just that, she just smiled knowingly instead of slapping him so he figured he was on the right track.  
  
"Frannie tells me you used to be her brother." Her hazel eyes were all shiny and bright and Ray almost looked around, thinking there had to be someonestanding behind himthat she wasflirting with.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that."  
  
She leaned her hip against his desk and damned if she didn't keep looking down at his mouth. "Sounds like an interesting story. I love to hear it."   
  
"Well, I..."  
  
"How about lunch? Today?"  
  
Beside her, Frannie's mouth fell open and her eyes got big and she tiptoed away with as much stealth as a six-months-pregnant woman can manage.   
  
"Y-yeah, that sounds good."  
  
"It's a date then. My treat."  
  
"You don't have to..."  
  
"No, I want to." She looked right into his eyes and wet her lips. "It's been a while since I've bought a meal for a handsome man."  
  
Ray was startled into laughter and then, incredibly, she winked and walked away. He scratched the back of his head, confused and a little aroused.  
  
They got along real well, and Melanie was giving him the full court press. So after a few weeks of lunches, coffees in the break room and one Sunday afternoon movie, Ray took her back to his place one night.   
  
"Nice," Melanie said as she walked in ahead of him.  
  
"Well, I'm not here that much," Ray said, shutting and locking the door behind out of habit. "Plus, the rent is..."  
  
Whatever he was going to say got lost in Melanie's mouth because suddenly, she pulled him down and kissed him hungrily, her hands on the back of Ray's neck to keep him from moving. Not that he had any intention of moving, because, Jeez, it had been so long since he'd had a woman in his arms. A woman who wanted him this much...  
  
She was wearing a sleeveless top that just barely covered her belly button and there was so much warm, smooth skin to touch that Ray didn't know where to start. Bedroom, his lust-fogged mind thrummed over and over until his body finally got moving. Without breaking the kiss, he picked her up easily in his arms and carried her there, and when her legs locked tight around his hips, Ray thought he might come, right then and there.  
  
Melanie started to strip the minute her feet touched the floor, pulling the little tee shirt off over her head, watching him pull his own shirt off. It was dark and cool in his bedroom and Ray couldn't see a whole lot at first. But as he was fumbling with the button of his jeans, Melanie pressed up against him again, rubbing her breasts again his chest, and Ray growled and pushed her onto the bed.  
  
He crawled on top of her, and sucked one of those nipples into his mouth. His hand reached out to fondle the other breast, the fullness more than filling his hand and Ray was reminded how great it was to feel a woman arch up off the bed, toward his mouth, toward his hands. Melanie started to make all kinds of sexy noises, grabbing his ass and grinding up against him. Ray reached down between them, slipping his hand between her legs, rubbing his fingers against her denim covered crotch and humping her thigh a little.   
  
"Ray, Ray," she said, halfway between a sob and a moan and Ray thought the top of his head was going to come off. He moved to the side and whispered, "Pants off. Now." His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he saw a slow smile curve her lips. His dick throbbed as he gave her a smile back.  
  
They lay on their backs beside each other and worked on their pants, and Melanie watched him with eyes half open. "You're so hot," she murmured, lifted her hips and pushing her skin tight jeans off her slim hips. "This is going to be so good, Ray."  
  
Ray froze, his hands still on the waist of his jeans.   
  
This is going to feel so good, Ray.   
  
Fraser had said that the first time Ray had fucked him. In that hotel room in Colville Lake, with Ray scared shitless because he had never fucked a man before. And, also because, well, this was Fraser and if he screwed this up, Ray knew that he would be scarred for life. He had been so turned on that night, Ray was nearly paralyzed but Fraser had talked him through it, and before he knew it, Ray had his dick buried balls-deep in Fraser's ass and he had started to move and oh, fuck, it had felt familiar and different and so damned good.   
  
He'd lasted all ofthirty seconds flat but afterward, when both he and Fraser were totally spent, they'd looked at each other and started to laugh. What an amazing night that had been.  
  
"Ray? Ray, what's wrong?"  
  
Melanie's voice sliced through his thoughts like a machete and Ray realized that he hadn't moved, hadn't gotten any closer to getting naked, as Melanie was already. He looked down at her tight little body, at the neatly trimmed bush of hair between her legs and felt his erection deflate like a balloon with all the air rushing out of it.  
  
Oh, fuck, no, Ray thought and he leaned over and crushed her mouth with his, trying as hard as he knew how to work up some passion, tongue-fucking her, hitting her teeth with his in the process.  
  
"Ow, that hurts!"   
  
Ray pulled back, panting and shuddering with a clammy chill. He fell over onto his back, and covered his eyes with his forearm. Fraser, Ray thought with a hard mix of panic and fury. You've ruined me, you Canadian freak.  
  
He looked over at Melanie, who had gotten up on her elbows, her eyes narrowing with anger, or maybe even hurt. "Fuck, Mel, I'm sorry, I'm just not...just give me a minute here, I'll..."  
  
"But I thought you wanted this."  
  
"I did. Ido. But I...this has never happened before. I'm really sorry..." Ray could only watch as she scrambled off the bed and got into her clothes. "Mel, wait, don't go."  
  
She left without a word and Ray never saw her again. Frannie's next replacement was in her fifties and had a moustache.  
  
________  
  
July 28, 1998   
  
Dear Detective Kowalski,  
  
Corporal Fraser asked me to write this note, to let you know that he is sending a parcel containing possessions that were inadvertently left behind when you departed for the United States. He would like you to check through these items and if you believe that anything is missing, please contact the RCMP detachment here in Norman Wells (address and phone number enclosed). As I will be handling any further shipments, please feel free to direction any communication to me.  
  
Thank you kindly for your attention to this matter,  
  
Yours Truly,  
  
Constable Helen MacPherson RCMP  
  
________  
  
Ray knocked back the rest of the whiskey and then set the glass down on the floor. He sat forward on the sofa and with a sneer, he pulled the box up on the coffee table and ripped open the flaps. He avoided looking at the return address. He didn't want to know.   
  
Crumpled up pages from the NWT/ News North and The Yellowknifer were stuffed inside for padding. There was mostly stupid stuff, things Fraser should have just thrown away - a tube of toothpaste, sunscreen, a couple of energy bars, the knit gloves he'd worn under his Gore-Tex gloves. Ray threw them aside, but there was something in the middle of the newspapers, carefully wrapped in dark blue cloth. From the shape and size of it, Ray knew immediately what it was and with his jaw clenched tight, Ray unwrapped it carefully.   
  
It was a carving of a polar bear that he'd bought for Fraser in Colville Lake. They had been heading south again after a visit to Inuvik, and Ray thought that they were going back to Norman Wells, so Fraser could accept his promotion and his new posting. He'd waited until they were back in their hotel room before giving Fraser the carving. Fraser had held it carefully, like it was made of eggshells and not heavy-ass Canadian soapstone, and had given Ray a dorky smile that made Ray's stomach flip. "I'll treasure this always, Ray," he'd said before he kissed him, but apparently, in Fraser time, "always" was just barely a frigging month.   
  
Ray kicked the box off the table with one foot and lay back against the sofa cushions, holding the carving against his chest until the coldness of the polished stone began to seep into his skin and his fingers began to feel numb,. He stared up at the ceiling and breathed deeply, but it was only from memory.   
  
________  
  
Block Senders  
  
Incoming messages from e-mail addresses (or domains) on your Block Sender List are deleted. These messages are never delivered, and as a result will not appear in your Junk E-Mail or Trash Can folder.  
  
Type a single e-mail address (or domain): bfraser@rcmpdet.ca  
  
________  
  
He thought he was doing pretty well. The fun of waking up with a monster headache and a roiling gut had worn off pretty fast. So Ray passed the four month mark stone cold sober and buried in work.   
  
Leave it to Frannie to blow that all to hell.  
  
One day in late August, she sat down on a corner of his desk, which was not an easy trick, since she looked ready to drop her kid at any minute. She still had another four weeks to go but Ray didn't see how she'd make it. He looked up at her and was surprised to see her pretty face creased with lines.  
  
"Look, Kowalski," she said softly, leaning down closer so that no one else could hear her, "I know I'm not your sister anymore, but Jeez, you're breaking my heart."  
  
"What do you mean, Frannie?" Ray asked, trying his best to hold his temper and wondering if they would ever have a conversation that didn't totally confuse him.  
  
She looked at him, all soft and kind and put her hand on his shoulder. It was a sisterly kind of thing that made Ray's chest hurt. "Go back, Ray. Go back up there and straighten this out or it's gonna kill you."  
  
Ray sat back in his squeaky chair to get her hand off him and couldn't meet her caring eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. And besides, I do not go where I'm not wanted."  
  
"Sure, you do! What did you do with Stella all that time? And she didn't want any part of you!"  
  
"Oh, thanks, Frannie, you're really perking me up here."  
  
"Don't go getting your pantyhose in a clump, Ray. You know what I mean. This isn't like you - you don't give up this easy."  
  
Ray rubbed the back of his neck, where his muscles were knotted. "I didn't give up on anything. Fraser was the one who gave up and that's that. Now, beat it, will you? I've got work to do."  
  
He turned back to his paperwork as Frannie got to her feet again. "Ma wants you to come over for dinner this week."  
  
Without looking up, Ray answered. "Give her a kiss for me, but tell her I can't make it. Maybe next week." Ray turned back to the various piles of shit on his desk and opened a couple of files when he realized that Frannie was still standing there, watching him.  
  
"What?" heasked impatiently.  
  
She drew in a deep breath and then, the real reason for her visit came spilling out in a rush. "Fraser's coming back to town for the baby's baptism, I just thought you should know that." With that, she waddled off, her big belly leading the way.  
  
"Wait! Frannie!" Ray called after her, but she disappeared through the doorway. Ray sat down heavily, his legs feeling shaky all of a sudden. Fuck, fuck, fuck - Fraser? Here? It had been hard enough to deal with getting dumped when he knew he'd never see Fraser again, but he was coming back? In a couple of months, maybe sooner?  
  
Ray wondered how fast he could snag another undercover gig.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
As it happened, Ray was too busy to give much thought to Fraser or anything else. A series of homicides involving the elderly had the entire city on edge and Ray barely went home for more than a couple of hours at a time for three weeks. By the time the perps had been booked, fingerprinted and kicked in the head, the blessed event had happened.   
  
He knew he shouldn't feel like an uncle, but he kind of did anyway. Once Ma Vecchio had called and told him about Frannie's little boy, Ray couldn't stop himself from running right out to the nearest toy store and buying a huge stuffed bear for the baby and flowers for Frannie. But the truth was, looking at the little guy, so tiny and pink in his mother's arms, made Ray's heart feel sore.   
  
All the Vecchios were gathered at the hospital and the sight made Ray feel like the last single guy on the planet. It sucked that he'd never have a moment like that. He would never take his wife to the hospital and pace and worry until she gave birth to their child. The thing was he could live with that if only...well, what the hell difference did it make now? It didn't matter what he wanted. It was time for Plan B. If only he knew what the fuck Plan B was.   
  
That night, he dreamed about the Northern Lights. They had been camped north of Yellowknife, on their second night out when Ray saw them for the first time. He had never seen anything like it and he couldn't take his eyes off the sky. For once, Ray was speechless and he just sat there in the darkness, not saying a word. After a while, though, he looked at Fraser and realized that Fraser was watching him, as intensely as Ray was watching the Northern Lights. It was a look that made Ray forget how cold he was.  
  
"What?" Ray had asked him quietly, carefully, because he didn't want to mess this moment up. It seemed important somehow, and something told him to take care.  
  
"I'm glad, Ray," Fraser had said, almost whispering, "that I could show this to you."  
  
Ray had grinned at him but said nothing. He put his gloved hand on Fraser's shoulder and they'd sat like that for a long time. Later, Ray was almost asleep when he felt Fraser's bare hand move gently over the back of his head. He wasn't even sure that it had really happened, until a few nights later, when Fraser kissed him.  
  
Ray woke up while it was still dark, pushed his erection back into his boxers and turned over onto his side. There, beneath his cool sheets, it suddenly came to him that there wasn't a Plan B. There was only this, life, and he was gonna have to live it without Fraser. Ray decided that it was time he stopped acting like a girl and got the fuck over it. Fraser would come and Fraser would leave but he had to keep going.   
  
________  
  
WE WELCOME WITH LOVE A BRAND NEW BLESSING, A GIFT FROM ABOVE  
  
Benjamin Ray Vecchio "Ray" September 4, 1998 10:03am 7 lbs. 2 oz. 19 inches   
  
The Vecchios  
  
________  
  
Ray grinned as he read what Frannie had written on the bottom of the blue plaid announcement. At least, what he thought she'd written - really, serial killers had more legible handwriting. "Don't get a swelled head, Kowalski - my brother's name is Ray, too. I named him for BOTH of you." She'd sent a picture, too, and Ray stuck it up on the bulletin board next to his desk.   
  
"That Francesca's baby?" Welsh asked as he walked by.   
  
"Yeah. My godson," Ray said proudly, glad that all those years of Catechism and Holy Days of Obligation and incense was finally going to pay off. "Cute, huh?"  
  
Welsh squinted briefly then kept walking. "Looks like my Uncle Frank."  
  
Ray looked back at the picture and chewed thoughtfully on his toothpick. He was thinking more along the lines of a miniature Elvis, what with all that hair, but hey, he was his godson and namesake and Ray thought he was cute as hell. The big day was this weekend and Ray still hadn't decided on a gift yet. He made a mental note to ask around for opinions.  
  
It was late in the afternoon and Ray was on the phone with one of his CI's when he heard a commotion. There were no shouts or shots fired, but just a kind of hum of excitement in the air. Like something had happened or was about to. He looked up from the case file that was open on his desk and there he was.   
  
Fraser.  
  
Looking at him.  
  
And what looked like every person in the building looking at both of them, looking at each other.  
  
Blindly, Ray hung up the phone and got to his feet. A flush of heat and cold went through him like a bolt of electricity and for a minute, he thought he might throw up.   
  
He stared and waited for the blood to reach his head again. Fraser looked fucking amazing, as always, in a blue plaid shirt and close fitting jeans that made him look like the centerfold for "Backwoodsman Monthly." The Stetson kept his eyes in shadows for the most part, but Ray knew his mouth well enough to see that he was pissed. And where did he get off, since RAY was the one who got dumped?  
  
It looked like neither one of them was going to be able to move or speak but it was Welsh who saved them both. He ambled into the crowd and put his hand out to Fraser.  
  
"Corporal, you've returned," he said. "Upon reflection, I imagine that pleases me."  
  
Fraser paused a beat and then, looked away from Ray and at Welsh, shaking his hand. "Lieutenant, it's good to see you again. You've been well, I take it?"  
  
"Quite well, thank you." Welsh turned around. "Ah, is anybody working today? Or we all on our union-mandated coffee breaks?"  
  
Reluctantly, the crowd started to break up and Welsh took Fraser by the arm, leading him to Ray's desk. "Detective, you're looking poorly. I suggest you take the rest of the day off."  
  
"Sir, I'm right in the middle of..."  
  
Welsh lowered his voice. "Now, Kowalski. And let me suggest that the two of you use this time to iron this shit out. I don't want anymore spectacles like this in my squad room, are we clear?" He strode off without waiting for an answer.  
  
Ray glared fiercely at Fraser, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and tossing it before he broke it in half with his teeth. "Way to go, Fraser," he snapped under his breath, closing the file and throwing it into his "in" basket. "Thanks for taking the last shred of dignity I had." His phone started to ring, and someone called out for him to pick up but Ray was just on the right side of functioning at the moment and he left it.  
  
While he was closing drawers and pushing his chair in, Fraser leaned closer and hissed back. "This wouldn't have been necessary if you had just returned my phone calls."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Now, there's a clever remark."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
He turned to walk out when the phone started ringing again. With a curse, Ray picked it up. "Kowalski!" he shouted into the receiver.  
  
"Ray, it's Frannie," she blurted out fast. "I just found out that Fraser's on his way down there. I wanted to give you the thumbs up."  
  
With a disbelieving snort of laughter, Ray didn't bother correcting her. "Yeah, got it, Frannie. Thanks."  
  
~*~*~*~*  
  
They walked out of the bullpen and into the parking lot the way that they had done hundreds of times before. Except that nothing was like it was before. Once they were in the GTO, Ray didn't look at Fraser. He couldn't. Maybe that made him a fucking coward but he didn't want to look at him. He wanted to run. He wanted to lean over and punch Fraser in the face. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and looked at the brick wall in front of him. "So, where we are going?" he demanded roughly, feeling sweat popping out on his forehead.  
  
"May we go to your apartment?"  
  
Ray shoved the keys into the ignition and gunned the motor. "Yeah, we can go to my apartment. But you're not staying the night so don't even go there."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it. I've already dropped my bag off at the Consulate. I'll be staying there."  
  
Ray peeled out of the parking space and threw the Goat into drive, giving into a teeth-baring snarl. "Of course, you are. How did I know that?"  
  
"And that means what, exactly?"  
  
Ray recklessly pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic, his rear tires smoking. "Fraser, don't talk to me now, all right? You keep talking, and I swear, I'll drive this car into the lake they call Michigan and kill us both, so just shut up for now."  
  
"As you wish, Ray."  
  
And he kept to his word, of course, beating him to death with a Canadian silence that spoke volumes. Ray countered that with some all American vehicular aggression, speeding and stopping too fast and breaking no less than five traffic laws on the way to his apartment.  
  
Ray led the way up the stairs, his favorite blue "Rawhide" tee-shirt clinging wetly to his back. He thought he could feel Fraser's eyes on him, and he fumbled a little when it came time to put the key in his door. Once inside, he went immediately to the refrigerator, looking for something to drink. His mouth longed for a beer, but he had gotten rid of his stash more than a month ago. He pulled out a bottled water and made do with that. He didn't offer one to Fraser.   
  
"All right, Fraser, let's get this over with. And don't get too comfortable. You're not going to be here long." Ray strode over to the sofa and sat down, putting his feet up on the coffee table and crossing them at the ankle.   
  
Fraser came around to stand in front of him. The Stetson was gone and he was combing his fingers through his hair. Ray didn't know why, because the freak never had hat hair. Then, he looked up at him, straight into his eyes, in that piercing way that Fraser had when he was trying to work his Northwest Areas charm on somebody. "Why haven't you written? Or answered my phone calls?"  
  
"Because I don't want to write to you or talk to you on phone. Next question." He took a long swig from the bottle of water and nearly choked trying to get the ice cold liquid down his tight throat.  
  
Fraser looked down and combed at his eyebrow and Ray fought the urge to leap off the sofa and strangle him. He kept his eyes on the dark TV screen. "Since we're both going to be at little Ray's baptism this weekend, for the sake of the Vecchios, I think that you and I should clear the air between us so we don't make anyone uncomfortable," Fraser said.  
  
Ray laughed unpleasantly and he couldn't seem to keep his foot still. "Fraser, you think everybody doesn't know what happened? You think if you and I are polite and smile and exchange...those things...pleasantries...that nobody is gonna be uncomfortable?"  
  
"They won't be if we put forth an effort..."  
  
His foot was making a pretty impressive beat against the table and his hand tightened on the water bottle, making a clicking noise over and over. "Well, you put forth an effort. Put up a front. That's what you do best."  
  
In the next instance, Fraser was glaring at him, hot, blistering fury in his eyes and he took a step closer to the sofa. "What are you implying?"  
  
Ray got to his feet and took the three steps that brought him to Fraser. He bumped him, pushing his shoulder into Fraser's solid body and felt a rush of satisfaction when he succeeded in knocking Fraser back a couple of steps. Fraser looked surprised but still pissed. "I'm not implying shit - I'm saying it straight out. You're a phony, Fraser. You want people to believe that you're noble but you're not. You use people and you used me and everybody knows it!"  
  
Ray was ready for the punch when it came. Fraser was fast but he wasn't fast enough today. His big fist came toward Ray and Ray sidestepped it. And then, his boxer's instincts guiding him, Ray threw an uppercut to Fraser's jaw. Fraser fell back against the doorway to the bedroom, touching his jaw and looking surprised.  
  
Ray rubbed his fist in the palm of his other hand, breathing heavily, watching with grim pleasure as Fraser straightened and settled himself. Ray watched Fraser's eyes, waiting for another punch but instead, sawmost of the fight go out of him.   
  
"I never used you, Ray. You're my best friend."  
  
The need to throw another punch at Fraser's face nearly knocked Ray down. "You don't know the first thing about best friends, Fraser," Ray hissed. "I'm real sorry that your mother died and that your father and that Victoria chick fucked you over. We're all just as sorry as all hell." Ray felt his rage dying, and the emptiness that that left began to swallow him. "But that never had anything to do with me. And you just don't get that."  
  
All of a sudden, Ray had an ache in his chest that was like the coldest fire ever. He could smell Fraser, that smell that would curl around him when they were lying together, with Fraser's face against Ray's neck and his hands holding Ray still when he needed to move. Oh, Jesus.   
  
"Ray..."  
  
He shook his head, never taking his eyes off Fraser. "You don't dump your best friend, Fraser." Ray could barely get the words out but he could see Fraser starting to shake his head and Ray couldn't deal with any more denial. "You left me out in the middle of nowhere and you dumped me."  
  
"But I didn't..."  
  
"You fucking know what I'm talking about. You quit talking to me while we were still out in the field. And no sooner than we had pulled into Norman Wells, you slapped a plane ticket in my hand!"  
  
"Ray, I had to give you a way out. Don't you understand - I didn't want you to feel...obligated."  
  
"What kind of guy do you think I am, Fraser? The kind that fucks his best friend and then, looks for a way out?" Ray snapped his fingers and pointed at him. "Oh, wait - that's your MO, isn't it?"  
  
"You would have never been happy in Canada, Ray. You belong here."  
  
Ray swallowed hard, his throat feeling thick with feelings he didn't even want to go into. It was really done, this duet, this relationship and Jeez, didn't that suck? "That's the first time you've been right in six months, Fraser. I belong here. It was stupid to ever think that I could be happy some place else."  
  
All at once, Fraser went still. His shoulders seemed tomove down and his arms went limp at his sides. "What are you saying, Ray?" he asked sharply, watching Ray likehe had just grown another head.  
  
Ray laced his fingers behind his neck, and closed his eyes. "I'm saying I'm gonna go take a shower and when I come back out, I don't want you to be here." Ray walked past him and didn't look back.   
  
________  
  
IT'S A PARTY!  
  
FOR: Benjamin Ray Vecchio's baptism  
  
WHERE: The Vecchios 2926 North Octavia Avenue  
  
WHEN: Sunday, September 10, 1998 1 pm  
  
________  
  
"You look like shit."  
  
"Thanks, Stell. Nice to know you still care." Ray looked at his former wife, with her perfectly fitting gray suit and expensive heels. "You, on the other hand, look like a million bucks. I never knew palm trees and flamingos were your thing."  
  
Stella wasn't buying his attempt at diversion and instead, took Ray's arm and pulled him into a hallway, away from the crush of the party. "I do care. Are you sick?" Her pale blue eyes bored into him, seeing right through his...what did Fraser call it...faade. "It's that fucking Mountie, isn't it?"  
  
It had been a bittersweet kind of torture, seeing Fraser in the church, smiling happily at Frannie; standing with Ray Vecchio; watching Vecchio put his arm around Fraser's shoulder. He'd seen Fraser go out the door little more than an hour ago and finally started to relax a little and now, he had to deal with this.  
  
"Back off, Stella. My life isn't your business anymore."  
  
She stiffened andgave him one of those looks that used to scare the hell out of him but now, it just made Ray feel a little sad. He reached out and smoothed back her hair. "I didn't mean it like that. But just let me handle this, okay? Everything's under control."   
  
"Not if that fresh bruise onFraser's chin is any indication."  
  
"Fraser said he got it on the job and I'm sure that's true."  
  
"Hmm," Stella replied, the sound she always made when she thought he was full of it, and before he could try and distract her again, Vecchio walked up to them, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her possessively to his side.  
  
"What are you doing in the hall with my wife, Stanley?"   
  
Ray gave him his best, smart-ass grin. "Just talking over old times, Vecchio. The good old days."  
  
Vecchio smiled back. "The way I hear it, they were the bad old days."  
  
Stella moved away from Vecchio's side with a glare that included both of them. "Idiots," she muttered and disappeared into a sea of Vecchios.  
  
"Stella doesn't like big parties," Ray said.  
  
"Yeah." Ray recognized the helpless look that Vecchio gave Stella's back and laughed to himself. Poor bastard.  
  
Ray started to walk away because he'd rather take a header into raw sewage than have a conversation with Vecchio, but apparently, it was Ray's day to be tortured in a variety of ways.  
  
"Stanley, just a minute."  
  
He turned back to Vecchio, glaring his dislike and irritation. "Will you knock it off with the 'Stanley' shit already? My name is Ray and you know it."  
  
Vecchio stared back, almost sneering and it wasn't a good look for him. "Fine. Ray. Stay away from Benny. Leave him alone. Got me?"  
  
Ray tried to remember where he was and why he was here - The Vecchio's house. His godson. Religious stuff. But it was hard because at that moment, Ray couldn't think past therage thatswept through him. He wanted nothing more than to get his hands on Vecchio's big shit designer suit and pound his bald head into the wall. "What the fuck did you say to me?" Raysnarled, stepping into Vecchio's personal space,close enoughto countthe pores on his big nose. Whoa, a little too close.  
  
"You heard me. Benny's...not that way. Let him get back to his life. You're confusing him."  
  
He didn't put his hands on Vecchio, though, Christ, did he wanted to. Because once he did that, Vecchio would put his hands on him and they'd end up beating the shit out of each other and Ray didn't want that story being told to little Ray around the dinner table one day. So Ray moved away, his eyes never leaving Vecchio. "You don't know shit about him, Vecchio. You never did." He walked away, ignoring whatever it was that Vecchio called after him.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The festivities sort of lost their appealpretty quickafter that and Ray found Frannie upstairs in her bedroom, sitting in a rocking chair with the baby. He knocked softly and stuck his head in the door.  
  
"Frannie, I'm leaving, I just wanted to say goodbye."  
  
She looked up at him, an expressionon her face like the ones on the statues in the church. Ray had never seen her look so beautiful. She didn't look like the same girl that had followed Fraser around like an eager puppy. "Come in, Ray."  
  
Ray shut the door behind him, closing out the noise of the party and walked over to them, squatting down to look at little Ray. His little face was smooth and pink and peacefully asleep, a tiny fist curled up against his cheek.  
  
"Isn't he amazing, Ray?" Frannie whispered, not taking her eyes off her son. "I still can hardly believe he's mine."  
  
Ray looked at those minute little fingernails and shook his head. "Yeah, me, neither. You did good, Frannie, real good."  
  
Frannie's gaze reluctantly left the baby and went to him. "I'm so happy right now. I want everyone to be happy, you know? And that's why I've been writing to Fraser and why I begged and pleaded for him to be here for the baptism. I wanted you and Fraser..."  
  
"Frannie, don't..."  
  
Her big brown eyes started to get bright with tears. "He's leaving in the morning, Ray. I know you avoided him all day, but go and see him. He wants to make things right."  
  
"That's not what your brother says."  
  
"Since when do you listen to him?"  
  
Something unpleasant twisted in his gut and it sort of felt like jealousy. "Well, why should I listen to you? Since when did you and Fraser get so close? How do you know what he wants?" Ray asked tautly.   
  
She laughed but somehow, it came out as a sob. "It's funny - it took getting hit over the head with a big stick, but as soon as I realized that it was never going to happen between us, we became friends. I can tell him stuff that I can't tell anybody else. And maybe Fraser doesn't tell me everything, but I can read between the pages. He's unhappy, Ray, really unhappy."  
  
Ray frowned. "Lines, Frannie."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Never mind. Listen, I gotta go. If you or little Ray need anything, you just call, you got me?" He stood up and pressed a kiss to her forehead before he left the room.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He still had a little bit of a buzz from the champagne at the party and for Ray, "a little buzz" almost always translated to "a little horny". And for the past two and a half years, horniness led him directly to Fraser, so it wasn't all that surprising that he found himself walking up the steps to the Consulate.   
  
Looking back, Ray realized that it wasn't the first time he'd come looking for Fraser with a half-hard dick. He used to blame it on adrenaline or just general horniness but now, he saw it for what it was. He wanted Fraser; he had always wanted Fraser.  
  
"Fraser!" he bellowed when he got no response to his first round of knocks. "Fraser, open the fucking door."  
  
He was already breathing hard and Ray was beginning to regret the champagne. He wasn't entirely sure why he was here because he didn't really feel much like having a relationship talk with another guy. But his heart was pounding and he was here, at the Consulate again, and memories of he and Fraser together were pushing away any good sense urge to go back home.   
  
He stood there, waiting, hearing the creak of the wood floor when Fraser approached the door and the click of bolts and tumblers as he unlocked it and then the door swung open.  
  
Fraser must have been in the middle of changing his clothes becausethebottom of his dark blue Henley wasn't tucked in and he was barefoot. He was so fucking beautiful Ray could hardly breathe.He looked into those waiting blue eyes and was instantly, achingly hard but there was a split second when he started to turn around and run. But then, Fraser spoke, and that deep voice just knocked that idea down.  
  
"Ray. This is a surprise."  
  
Ray felt like he didn't have any control. He was moving without being conscious of it. Ray shoved Fraser away from the door and slammed it closed. And in the darkened entry, hearing only his own pulse in his ears, Ray grabbed a handful of Henley in one hand and swung Fraser around and pushed him against the paneled wall. He pinned him there with one hand on his chest.  
  
"You dumped me," Ray stated harshly. "I want to hear you say it."  
  
"Ray, I..."  
  
Ray put more of his weight behind the hand that held Fraser still and snarled. "You dumped me. Admit it." He wanted to punish him, to make him hurt. He wanted to fuck him into oblivion.  
  
"I didn't dump you, Ray," Fraser replied in a fairly reasonable voice. "I told you..."  
  
"Wrong answer, Fraser," Ray shot back and then, he was kissing him. It was rough and angry and made every nerve ending in Ray's body light up like a Christmas tree. Ray could almost feel the debate going on in Fraser's body, because for a few seconds, he didn't do anything, didn't move, didn't breath.  
  
Then, he made his decision because Fraser grabbed Ray's head and tilted it to get a better angle at him, and Jesus, Ray had almost forgotten that Fraser kissed like he did everything else, with laser-like focus and determination and fucking skill. Fraser's tongue moved against his and Ray closed his eyes, a bittersweet ache in his chest, wondering if this was the last time.   
  
It sure as hell didn't feel like Fraser was saying goodbye, though, because Frasershifted his thigh so that it was situated between both of Ray's and Ray pushed against it, muttering, "yeah, yeah", against Fraser's mouth. Yeah, because it felt so right; yeah, because his need to punish Fraser faded into the white-hot need to come; yeah because this was what he'd wanted from the minute he saw Fraser in the bullpen.   
  
He slipped a hand under Fraser's shirt, wanting skin, needing it. First his fingertips, then his palm skimmed over Fraser's back and then over his ribs and up to Fraser's already stiff nipple. Ray rubbed his thumb over it and Fraser made a sound that made Ray's rock-hard dick twitch.  
  
Ray closed his eyes and gave himself over to Fraser. "Ray," Fraser hissed in his ear, holding onto Ray's hips and pushing back, rubbing his erection against Ray's hip. Ray couldn't talk anymore. Fraser's warm, heavy body against his - it was right in a way that nothing ever had been. He leaned into Fraser, almost resting his head on Fraser's shoulder, and moved, humping Fraser's thigh. He was going to come in his pants, like some teenage virgin but he didn't give a fuck. Fraser's tongue was licking up the side of his neck. Fraser's hands were on his ass. Fraser's voice was in his ear, saying stuff that Ray's lust-crazed mind could barely make out.  
  
And then, Ray was coming, coming hard, sweating and groaning and gasping, moving until he felt like he'd shot every drop of fluid in his body. And after, when he was struggling to stay upright, Fraser yanked him even closer and kissed him deeply as he came, too.   
  
Ray felt punch-drunk and dizzy, and wrenched his mouth away with a struggle. "You dumped me," he said again, against Fraser's cheek, the accusation in his words softened by his orgasm-induced unsteadiness. He was still propped up against Fraser, not yet able to stand on his own. "You admit it. You owe me the truth."  
  
"Ray..." Fraser tried to lean in closer for his mouth again but Ray turned his head, even while he kept Fraser tight against the wall.  
  
"No! Damn it, Fraser, you're going nowhere until I hear you say it." Ray waited and watched the emotions play on Fraser's face - denial; fear; and finally, resignation.  
  
Fraser's dark head nodded and he didn't look at Ray. "It is true. I dumped you."  
  
Immediately, Ray took his weight off him, moving backward, his eyes never leaving Fraser's. "I knew that," Ray said, his mouth in a grim line, fighting to get his breathing back to normal. "You said you needed to give me an out. But you wanted an out for yourself, didn't you?"  
  
Fraser still leaned weakly back against the wall. He looked like a fucking wet dream, thoroughly fondled and rubbed against with a wet spot on the front of his pants and Ray felt his dick try to stir again. "It was selfish. Completely and inexcusably selfish, I know." Fraser licked the corner of his mouth and looked at Ray. "I didn't want to be left again, Ray. If that happened again, with you, I couldn't...well, I was willing to give you up before I'd let you leave me."  
  
Ray shook his head and rubbed his fingertips hard against his forehead. "Fraser? Do you hear yourself? Do you have any idea how absolutely fucked up that sounds?"  
  
Fraser's expression tightened angrily but Ray knew it wasn't directed at him. "Yes, yes, I know that now! It was a moronic notion. Definitely not my greatest moment!"  
  
Ray nodded slowly. "Yeah, no shit," he replied, his voice thick from the struggle for control. "Okay, you dumped me. I knew that. Everybody in fucking Chicago knew that. So what are you doing here? Because, I gotta tell you, Fraser, if you came back to apologize, you're really screwing it up."  
  
Pushing himself away from the wall, Fraser watched Ray steadily. "I've become really adept at that, Ray, or haven't you noticed?" Fraser replied with a half-version of his goofy smile. "I can live among the musk ox very peaceably but human beings tend to throw me for a loop. I suppose that is the very definition of "screwed up," isn't it?"   
  
Ray started to smile but stopped himself. No, he told himself. He wasn't going to let this happen, let Fraser remind him of how good it used to be between them, when they could read each other's minds and did their jobs like they were two halves of the same brain. Six months of misery couldn't be wiped out by one orgasm, spectacular though it was, and a sort-of half-assed apology. "You're Mr. Webster's Dictionary, Fraser. You tell me."  
  
"You were right. I've let my...my past experiences dictate my actions for too long. It was monumentally unfair to you. And I'm just hoping that..."  
  
"You sent the bear back," Ray said hoarsely. "I gave it to you and you sent it back."   
  
Fraser took another step closer. "I was angry. And I was hurt. And I knew that that would hurt you."  
  
It had hurt, it had hurt like a bastard but he wasn't about to admit that to Fraser. Ray just nodded and tried to smirk, but knew he fell short. "Yeah," he said quietly, "Well, I'm glad we cleared the air, Fraser. I guess that's that." Ray started toward the door, his hand shaking as it reached for the door knob when Fraser spoke.  
  
"Did you mean what you said, Ray? That you could be happy somewhere besides Chicago?"  
  
Ray curled his fingers around the brass door knob but didn't pull the door open. He stood there, facing the door as he heard Fraser come closer, and closer still, until Ray could feel the heat of Fraser's big body searinginto his back.  
  
"I've missed you, Ray," Fraser said, his words like a hot sigh against the back ofRay's neck. "So much. And I'm sorry. I know that doesn't fix anything but can I...that is, wouldyou be willing to... if we could just start again..."  
  
Ray swallowed hard and turned. He was right there, the man who had ruined his life, ruined him for anybody else, smelling like sex and heat and want. "Fraser..."  
  
"No, don't answer me now. Just...think about it."   
  
"Jesus, Fraser, you're leaving tomorrow. How the hell are we supposed to..."  
  
"We can do this, Ray. If, after I've gone, you decide you want to call me, then I'll know. That's all the explanation I'll need. All right?" And then, there it was - that hopeful look, that fucking Canadian, trusting, optimistic look that Ray had seen on Fraser's face a thousand times before - when he was trying so hard to get justice for a slapped-around bus boy; when he was trying to stop an ecological disaster on the Great Lakes; when he gave Ray his unquestioning support when Ray himself was accused of murder. How was he supposed to fight that look? How was he supposed to fight himself?  
  
Ray nodded.He tried to say, "Okay" but no sound came out. Because Fraser was giving him that goofy smile of his and coming closer and his arms went around Ray.  
  
"Good," Fraser said against his ear, like a sigh of relief."Good. Good, good..."  
  
Closing his eyes, Raylet himself think about that.It might be good. Could be good again. Really good.  
  
________  
  
September 14, 1998  
  
Dear Ray,  
  
It was wonderful to talk to you again. Upon my return, I found things very much as I had left them, quiet and in good order. I am, however, somewhat apprehensive about the upcoming meeting of the Girl Guides of Canada.It's time for the annualelection ofofficers and the process is oddly conducive to discord and turmoil. I fear I will have to attend the meeting myself in an attempt to stave off any trouble.  
  
Diefenbaker fared quite well in my absence, though he is still put out by my not returning with you. I explained to him that we would, instead, be hearing from you by mail and by phone, but he was unconvinced until he heard your voice.   
  
In all honesty, I wasn't entirely convinced that I would hear from you until I, too, heard your voice. You can't know how much it means to me to be able to talk to you again, Ray. And I look forward to hearing from you again very soon.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Fraser  
  
________  
  
November 1, 1998  
  
Dear Ray,  
  
I am writing this just after hanging up with you and the depot is very quiet. It's odd - I was never bothered by the stillness and solitude of my duties until after my time in Chicago. It always seemed to happen that I worked better alone, my inability to find someone to partner with me not withstanding. But as the snowdrifts over the city, and the first thin layer of ice begins to form on the river, I look ahead to the routine that comes with winter and find myself feeling unsettled.   
  
In so many ways, I was never more alive than in Chicago. As I expressed to you on the phone tonight, I am bewildered by my mood.Perhaps you are right, though,that I just needto give myselftime in which to find my footing.Thank you for allowing me to vent my frustrations. I was in dire need of someone to talk to and as always, you came through for me.   
  
I hope to hear from you soon.  
  
Fraser  
  
________  
  
This message is not flagged. [ Flag Message - Mark as Unread ] Date: Thurs December 24, 1998 18:59:03 - 0400 (EDT) From: "Benton Fraser" bfraser.rcmpdet.ca Subject: Re. Merry Christmas To: "Ray Kowalski"  
  
Ray,  
  
I know of your aversion to email but the weather conditions here have deteriorated such that you would likely not get this letter from me until after the New Year. The temperature has been rather manageable (an expected high of -1 C today) but the wind gusts have been up to over 40 miles per hour and we're expecting temperatures to drop to the -40 C range within the week.   
  
As you might expect, Constable MacPherson and I will probably be here at the depot around the clock for several days. I am not looking forward to this for a number of reasons, most prominent of these being that Constable MacPherson is not a morning person. For that matter, she isn't much of a night person, either.  
  
However, that is neither here nor there. I wanted to let you know that your presents arrivedyesterday and Dief and I can hardly wait until tomorrow to open them. I'm glad to hear that you will be spending Christmas Day with your parents at the Vecchios. I don't like to think of you as being alone for the holidays.  
  
While I'm awarethat you prefer phone calls, I want to thank you for allowing me the luxury of writing. It will come as no surprise to you that it is difficult for me to express myself on occasion and I find that putting words to paper (or computer screen) allows me a freedom that makes that easier.  
  
I miss you very much, Ray. This separation is growing intolerable for me and I feel that a decision must be reached very soon. Whatever happens, I don't intend to spend next Christmas without you.  
  
Fraser  
  
________  
  
April 2, 1999  
  
Dear Ray,  
  
The weather is quite lovely today and business, as they say, is slow, which is just as well since I am getting little of any value accomplished. I must confess that I am still thinking of our phone call of the other night. Not surprisingly, it was my first experience with that sort of thing and I'm pleased that you had such an enthusiastic response. As I'm sure you could tell I was similarly affected. And I think we should do it again, as soon as possible.  
  
The next two weeks will seem to crawl by, I'm sure, and I hope my duties will keep my mind and body occupied until you arrive. After that, I hope that my mind and body will be taken care of. You can rest assured that yours will be.  
  
Well, I am putting far too much innuendo into this letter and I will close before I get any sillier. Stay safe, Ray.  
  
Fraser  
  
________  
  
EPILOGUE Fall 2001 Chicago, Illinois  
  
"Ray?"  
  
Ray hurriedly tried to put everything back in their envelopes but before he could, Fraser walked into the bedroom. Busted.  
  
"I'm sorry I'm late. Inspector Wallace had a dilemma that only I could solve. I haven't ruined our plans, have I?"  
  
He grinned up at Fraser. "Nah, we can grab a snack now and eat after the game."  
  
Fraser walked over and pressed a kiss to Ray's forehead, then looked curiously at the letters spread at on the bed. "What's this?"  
  
"I was looking for my Cubs hat and I found these old letters."   
  
"Ah," Fraser said, sitting down next to Ray, picking up one and glancing through it.   
  
Ray watched him, thinking, as he always did, that the brown uniform had it all over the red serge. Especially with the jacket off and those damned suspenders that made Fraser's shoulders look huge. Seeing him in those always made Ray want to throw Fraser down and fuck his brains out. Today was no different but they had a very important appointment to get to.  
  
Fraser put the letter down on the quilt and frowned. "We were quite foolish, weren't we?"  
  
Ray tilted his head at his partner. "What's this, `we' stuff, Fraser?"  
  
His blue eyes brightening with laughter, Fraser smiled. "All right, then, I was foolish."  
  
"You can say that again," Ray said, leaning over to kiss Fraser's mouth briefly.   
  
"Well, I certainly will not." Fraser put his hand on the back of Ray's neck and kissed him back, deeper, hotter until Ray laughed and pulled back.   
  
"Knock it off, Fraser. Do you know how much these tickets cost us? I am not missing this game, not even for hot sex. Who knows when the Cubs are going to be in the playoffs again?"  
  
Fraser smiled teasingly at him. "How sad, Ray, that it's come to this. Picking a baseball game over me," he said as he rose and started to work the buttons of his jacket. "The bloom is off the rose, then."  
  
Ray pulled all the letters back into a bundle and returned them to their placeon the top shelfof their closet. "Bullshit. Wait until I get you back home, Fraser. You'll have all the bloom you can handle."  
  
Chicago was on fire with playoff fever and Ray and Fraser walked with a pretty lively crowd into the stadium. And once they were seated, Ray looked over at Fraser, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. He was wearing blue jeans, a Chicago PD teeshirt and a Cubs baseball cap. Perspiration dottedFraser's smooth neck and he was holding a bag of peanuts in his hands.  
  
Fraser looked over at him and smiled, giving Ray's knee a nudge with his own. "I have a feeling we're going to win tonight," Fraser said beneath the crowd noise.  
  
Ray smiled. "I have that feeling, too."  
  


  
 

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